Recipe For Disaster
by Sincerely Tiffany
Summary: Erin is trapped; she's stuck in a toxic relationship that she can't safely leave. There's no way out. She doesn't know what to do. She hasn't been happy in years, she hasn't felt safe in years, she hasn't smiled in years, that is until a sweet detective enters the picture, bringing with him the love and support she didn't know she's been missing.


How did her life turn into this? Erin has asked herself that question every single day for the past seven and a half years. And she still doesn't have an answer for it. She looks at her reflection in the sun visor mirror, taking in the busted lip and the light coloring of a bruise forming beneath her eye that couldn't be fully covered by makeup. She's tired, so very tired, of all of it. Erin watches herself cry in the mirror, feeling sorry for herself for the first time in her life. Pretending to be okay isn't okay, it's exhausting, it's like working a full-time job. Always having to put on an act for so long, for so often is mentally draining.

She wants to leave. It isn't the first time though. It's sadly the sixth. And she fears she's going to end up changing her mind when he apologizes and presents a piece of jewelry like he always does after a night of drinking. She has to stay strong. She has to stay firm. She has to leave but she doesn't know what to do. All of her money is tied up with his. They share the apartment; the lease has both of their names on it. This business, this bakery -her bakery- that she just parallel parked down the block from is owned by the both of them. He's so ingrained into every facet of her life and she doesn't know how to get him out of it.

Erin slams the sun visor shut. She's tired of looking at her appearance. She grabs her sunglasses, putting them on to hide her eyes -protecting them from the sun and protecting her bruise from everyone else- she grabs her purse and chef's coat before getting out of the car. The bakery is located along a row of restaurants and stores, all connected to one another on a busy street in downtown and while she brings in good revenue, he gets the majority of it and she's left with less than half. She's so used to getting the short end of the stick that she doesn't even care anymore.

She counts to three and like clockwork the smile is up, presenting itself in such a routinely normal way because she's been doing it for over seven years. She can fake a smile better than anyone. And no one has yet to notice, -if they did, they never called her out on it. She doesn't have any staff, she prefers to work alone and typically she comes in around five in the morning to start baking for the day but she didn't want to go home last night, already knowing he was there and waiting and more than likely ready to take his anger out on her because he lost his case.

She was only getting to work later than usual because of the pain on her face. Icing it took hours and makeup to try and cover as much of it took longer than that. It was almost noon and she was just now getting here.

Erin pulls out the keys in preparation of approaching the front door and opening her bakery for the day when she notices yellow tape surrounding the restaurant connected to the left of hers. She's used to minding her business but she knows the elderly couple that owns the pizza spot next door and she freezes on the sidewalk, staring in hopes that neither of them is hurt.

"Excuse me," she's spotted by a detective with a badge hanging around his neck, she blinks into focus and turns to face him, "this is an active crime scene."

She shakes her head, mouth opening, already ready to form her apology, "Oh, I'm sorry, I just," she looks up to meet his eyes and she can tell he's looking at her busted lip, "I know the owners of this restaurant. Are they okay?"

"Can I ask you a few questions?" She doesn't know if ignoring her question was on purpose or not. And she doesn't bother answering his question because of that. He senses it though, smiling as if caught, "You're referring to the Wilsons," she nods, "Gloria is fine," he reassured.

"…and what about Eddie?"

"There was a robbery and Eddie walked in on it. He had a heart attack. He's been taken to med."

She takes in a deep breath and walks the few steps to the front door of the bakery. She'll have to visit him later. Maybe bring a bouquet of flowers and grab a get-well card from the gift store? She unlocks the door and notices the detective standing right behind her. She'd forgot he wanted to speak with her, "I'm sorry, I'm just not all the way here today. You can ask your questions."

"Have you noticed anything suspicious around here lately? Maybe someone watching his restaurant? A vehicle that doesn't belong? Anything?"

Erin pushes the front door open, the bell above her head dinging, "Um, no, I haven't. If someone was watching his place, they'd blend right in," she keys in the code to the alarm system before turning on the lights, "and cars don't stand out around here. It's downtown Chicago."

"How long do you typically stay a night?"

"It varies," she shrugs, moving behind the counter, tucking her purse in a cabinet beneath the register, "but last night I didn't leave until close to one in the morning."

"His wife said he left for the restaurant around five so we can place the timing of the robbery around then," he says before it suddenly dawned on him, "Oh, I've been rude, sorry," he extends his hand and walks towards her, "I'm Detective Jay Halstead."

"Erin Lindsay," she replies, shaking his hand. And when the universal undisclosed amount of time had passed for a handshake to end, it doesn't. He holds on. He continues to shake it. He's staring at her. His gaze is focused on her busted lip. And if it didn't hurt, she would bite down on it or at least attempt to hide it by rolling it into her mouth.

Once the handshake inevitably ends, by her decision rather than his, it's he who asks, "Can I ask you something Erin Lindsay?"

"Do you typically ask for the answer to a question before you actually ask the question?"

That brings a smile to his face and his shoulders do loosen up a bit, "It's a habit," he responds, his gaze is still focused on her lip, "can I ask about what happened to your lip?" He even points at his own lip as if she wouldn't understand what he's referring to, it's been the thing he's been occasionally staring at since she met him.

"I fell," she lies smoothly.

It's practiced. It's rehearsed. It's her go-to answer anytime she's questioned about it. It isn't often though; most people mind their business or make an assumption about it for her.

"You fell," he repeats as if he doesn't fully believe her, "and your eye?"

"What makes you think there's something wrong with my eye?" She still has on sunglasses.

"You're wearing sunglasses indoors."

"I have a migraine. The lights," she points upwards towards the fluorescent beams shining down upon her, "they make it worse."

Jay slowly nods, bringing his head up and down so drastically slow that she knows he doesn't believe one word she's saying, "Alright, it was nice meeting you," he reaches into his pocket for a pen before grabbing one of the bakery menus, "if you remember anything, anything at all, give me a call," he scribbles his name and number down onto it, "and if you happen to ever have another _fall_," he emphasizes the last word, "and you need help, please, _please_, don't hesitate to call me."

When the bell above the door rings signaling his exit, she lifts up the menu, reading his name and number before folding it up and sticking it inside of her back pocket.

* * *

In her whole life, Erin has only been in two relationships and both of them were toxic. Her first one lasted six months and by the end of it she'd thought she dodged a huge bullet. But he was prince charming in comparison to the man she's with now. And it all happened so unexpectedly.

She was young, she'd just turned 18 when she met him. He's older, by ten years to be exact, but she always thought that she was too mature for a guy her age. Erin wipes her eyes as she thinks of how out of control her life had gotten since she met him. He was the sweetest person ever, so persistent in trying to get her to go out with him, he bought her gifts, he made her laugh and he was so very charming. She thought of all the bad luck life had thrown at her, he was her prize. She thought life had fully decided to give her a break but she was mistaken.

They moved fast. He told her he loved her after dating her for two months. They moved in together shortly after that and then that's when it all started to change. She noticed he became possessive, ruining what few friendships she had. He'd treat her one way in public but an entirely different way behind closed doors. Erin wiped her eyes again as the memory of the first time he hit her played through her mind. They argued; she was never one for biting her tongue. And he slapped her off her feet. She didn't stop though, she kept pushing his buttons and he gave her the worse beating of her lifetime. She tried to leave but she had no one. She had no money, no true friends, no family, no way out, she had nothing. So, she stayed.

It was another few more times after the first attempt at leaving that she tried to leave again. And he'd keep her there with promises of changed behavior, of extravagant gifts, trips around the country and worst-case scenario, threats of harm and humiliation. He was going to take everything away from her. How do you leave someone like that? He's a successful lawyer. It'll be his word against hers. She had no way out. Erin wiped the tears from her eyes once again before flipping the open sign to close, ready to end this long and stressful day.

* * *

"I'll be with you in a minute," Erin calls out from the kitchen after hearing the bell above the front door ding, signaling to her that she has her first customer of the day. This was perfect timing too because she'd just finished setting up for the day. And with the sunglasses off her face after the bruise healed, she doesn't have to worry about customers side-eyeing her in confusion.

Erin pushed through the swinging door that led from the kitchen to the front of the bakery, "Sorry I kept you waiting. What can I get for you?" She ties the waist apron around her hips, looking down at it to make sure it's centered.

"What do you recommend?"

She looks up when she recognizes that voice. She doesn't know how long she stares dumbfounded until he clears his throat, "Oh, um, I made a fresh batch of snickerdoodle cupcakes. They're my favorite," she looks down at the glass case, showcasing the many already prepared cupcakes, "that's if you're in the mood for cupcakes."

"I want a cupcake."

"Perfect," she puts on a glove and slides the case open, "trust me when I say you'll love this. If you don't, I promise I'll only take partial offense to it."

Jay takes the cupcake from her, swapping it with five bucks in his hand. She goes to ring it up, only for him to raise his hand to stop her, "Keep the change." She doesn't question it. She simply sets the bill in the cash register, prints off his receipt and hands it over. He grabs a napkin and walks over to one of the tables in the bakery, taking a seat before pulling the cupcake paper off the bottom of it. Erin tries to make herself look busy, wiping down counters that aren't even dirty as she waits for him to try it. Her heart stammers, suddenly feeling nervous because cooking has been her escape, her outlet and her therapy and when people tastes her food in front of her, she always suddenly gets performance anxiety.

"Mmmmmmmm," she hears sounds of pleasure and the beat of her heart evens out to a steady rhythm, "this is amazing!" He turns to look at her, "Heavenly, if I'm being honest."

"My cupcakes have never been described as heavenly before…"

"I blame that on people's limited vocabulary."

That manages to pull a laugh from her because the word heavenly is far from being outside of the typical person's vocabulary. He stuffs the last bite in his mouth and stands, wiping his hand on the napkin before wiping the table, "You don't have to do that."

"It's fine. I don't mind." He disposes of the napkin and while she was prepared for him to leave afterwards, she was surprised to find him return to the counter, "I want to buy one to take with me," he reaches to pull out his wallet, "actually let me get a variety pack of a dozen. I'm going to take them into work with me. It'll probably put me in better graces with my boss."

"…and if it doesn't, don't blame the cupcakes for it."

She reaches beneath the counter to grab a cupcake box, opening it, she looks up at him then back down at the cupcakes, "Just give me the regular ones. The vanilla, strawberry and chocolate."

Erin starts to pack the 12 cupcakes into the box before sealing the lid securely, adding an extra layer of tape to the front to make sure it survives transport from the bakery to the district. He gives her the money and once again he tells her to keep the change, "Thanks for this," he lifts the box, "and um," he clears his throat and meets her gaze over the countertop, "you have really beautiful eyes. I'm glad you ditched the sunglasses. They deserve to be seen." He doesn't wait around for a response. It's taken him over a week to work up the courage to come here and even more courage to say that. He feels her eyes staring into the back of him as he left. The bell above the door signaling his departure.

* * *

Erin hands the young woman her change before turning to the next person in line, "You're back," she whispers and he waves bashfully, "What can I get for you?"

"A cupcake," he answers, not bothering to look at the list of flavors but rather at her hazel orbs, the same ones that he complimented her on last week, "I want to try something different."

"I have the perfect cupcake for you," she reaches into the showcase, "it's banana cream pie flavor."

"A woman after my own heart."

She rings him up, he tells her to keep the change, he eats at the same table he ate at last week and then he ordered another dozen -same flavor as last week- to take to work with him.

* * *

Erin flips the sign from closed to open and unlocks the front door, pushing it open when she saw him waiting outside to be let in, "You're early. I don't open for another five minutes."

"Can't you make an exception for your favorite customer?"

She doesn't answer. She simply steps to the side to let him enter.

"What can I get for you?"

"…the usual."

He wants one cupcake. Her pick of flavor. He'll tell her to keep the change, he'll eat it at the same table and then he'll order a dozen to take with him to leave.

"This is chocolate raspberry. It's not my favorite but it seems to be a hit here."

He loves it. It soon becomes his second favorite flavor -right after snickerdoodle.

* * *

It started as a once a week thing until he started coming once a day, every morning, right before he had to go into work. And she always had a different cupcake flavor ready for him to try.

Gingerbread, -it's typically Christmas theme and made only around the holiday season but she made an exception because she really wanted him to try one of her favorite festive flavors. Cotton candy flavor, -he didn't really like that but apparently, it's a huge hit with the kids. Sugar cookie flavor was battling for second place against chocolate raspberry. And strawberry shortcake was battling for first against snickerdoodle. The latter will always probably have the number one spot if only because it was the first cupcake he'd ever tried at her bakery. From once a week to once a day, every visit he tried a different flavor: s'mores, salted caramel, pumpkin, cookies and cream, key lime, chocolate chip cookie dough, carrot cake, birthday cake, chocolate peanut butter and so many more. So many flavors in one bakery. So much talent in one person.

At his next visit, she already had the cupcake ready and waiting for him. It's lemon meringue flavor. He picks it up and she walks with him to his usual table, holding a cupcake of her own.

"I'm not as confident about this one as my other flavors," she admits, smiling in thanks when he pulls out the seat for her, "lemon is such a strong flavor, it's strong on the taste buds and I wanted to get it just right before it's added to the menu so this is of no charge to you."

"Let me at least pay something."

"No," she smiles, dimples appearing confidently, "you're already doing me a huge favor by being my taste tester. That's payment enough." They try the cupcake. He loves it. She does too. And he couldn't contain the smile on his face when he walks in the next day to find it on the menu.

* * *

"You have a little," Erin points towards his top lip, "a bit of cream cheese on your top lip."

He laughs, taking the napkin to wipe his mouth, "Thanks for the heads up."

Erin goes back to eating her cupcake, "Is there any word about the person that broke into Eddie's restaurant? Have they been caught?" She'd visited Eddie twice during his stay in the hospital. He's out now and the stubborn old man is already back to work, window to the storefront repaired and the flow of customers are in and out like nothing happened.

"Unfortunately, no," he finishes off the rest of his cupcake, "but we have noticed a string of robberies that's been going on in the area. We believe they have all been committed by the same people that broke into Eddie's spot. He was able to tell us that it was two assailants but they were wearing masks so we have no other description besides two males that are both taller than him so we're putting them around six foot two, maybe three."

* * *

"How many flavors do you think are too many flavors to have on the menu for cupcakes?"

Jay rocks his head side to side to contemplate the idea, "I don't think that number exists."

"Really," she whispers, looking over her shoulder and up at the menu, "there's 50 flavors."

"I think that's a perfect number."

"You're just saying that."

"No," he shakes his head, "I mean it. I've tried every one of those cupcakes except for like five and they all deserve a spot on that menu. I can't imagine removing one."

"…maybe you're right." She stares at the menu, harder, as if the answer would jump out.

"You know, there's this place on this strip, right down the block at the corner, it's a brunch spot and they sell cupcakes. I went the other day and got a cupcake, let me tell you, they had nothing on yours. They were obviously not blessed by the hands of Erin Lindsay."

Compliments of her baking is like music to her ears.

"Really?" She turns away from the menu, no longer caring about the former conversation.

"Really," he affirms, "you should try one just to see what I'm talking about."

"…maybe I will," she liked testing out the competition and since they sold cupcakes on the same strip as she did, they were definitely her number one competitor.

"…maybe," he rocks forwards then backwards, "we can go together?"

"I-I-" she meets his eyes, genuinely smiling at him because she truly wants to take him up on his offer, "I don't think that's a good idea," the smile he held on his face, the one reserved just for her had dropped but he tried to pretend as if it didn't.

"I understand." He doesn't but she doesn't have the words to explain it to him so she appreciates him lying about it, she appreciates him pretending as if he did.

* * *

"Erin, I'm going to take you out to dinner tonight, your favorite restaurant," she looks up at the sound of her name to find her boyfriend entering, dressed in his typical Monday through Friday business attire, he saunters over with such a confident swag, enveloping her up in his arms before pressing his lips against her own. He forces his tongue in, pushing through the barrier of her lips despite the bell ringing above the door and a customer entering.

"Oh," at the sound of Jay's voice, Erin pushes him away, "sorry, the sign said you were open."

"We're open," she clears her throat and pushes her hands against her apron, "and I have the perfect cupcake for you," her boyfriend takes a step back to observe the scene, "It's a churro cupcake."

"How come we didn't start with the churro cupcake?"

Erin reaches into the glass case, retrieving the biggest cupcake before pulling it out and placing it onto a saucer, "…because it's new. I was flipping through channels and there was a movie on and they were at a fair and bought a churro. I wondered if I could master the art of making it."

"I'm Eli," her boyfriend interrupts, extending his hand over the countertop, "Erin's boyfriend."

"Jay Halstead," he answers, purposely leaving off the detective title, "frequent customer and fan of Erin's work." His eyes glance in her direction and Eli notices.

Eli throws his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side, "She is good, isn't she?"

"Very," Jay takes a hold of his cupcake and slides a bill across the counter, "are you joining me this morning?" It has become their typical morning routine. He comes so early that her typical flow of customers doesn't arrive for another hour or two so she started joining him.

"Um," she was ready to join him. She's been looking forward to waking up early and getting to work just for their daily cupcake breakfast together but she didn't expect her boyfriend to drop by, he's typically at the office or at home asleep, he rarely visits her here, "I-" she cuts herself off when she meets her boyfriend's eyes, the fake smile on his face that tricks everyone that doesn't truly know him. There was only one right answer. The wrong one will have consequences.

"I'm a bit busy," she lies, closing the case and taking the five to the register, "I have to fulfill a large order. It's best I start on it now."

Halstead casts one last glance at the back of Eli's head before taking a seat to eat his cupcake.

* * *

The next day when Jay returned for his morning cupcake, the bakery was closed. And after waiting outside for half an hour, he realized that it wasn't going to be open today. It isn't opened the next day either. Or the day after that. For an entire week, the bakery remains closed.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath because it isn't like her not to come in. He should have gotten her number to at least check up on her, as friends, of course.

* * *

"I have been missing my favorite cupcake shop," it's Jay's way of announcing his entrance, "I was beginning to suffer from Erin cupcake withdrawals, which is not to be confused with sugar or regular cupcake withdrawals because the only way this can be cured is with another cupcake made by my favorite baker," he's grinning ear to ear as he approaches her from behind.

"I'm glad," based on the sound of her voice, he knows something is off. He didn't want to jump right into asking about her absence because he honestly thought it wasn't his business but her voice, it's strained, a bit gargled and raspier than usual.

"Erin," he whispered, hoping she'd turn around at the sound of her name being called.

"I'll be with you in a minute."

He doesn't have a minute to wait. He needs to see her, "Erin," he pleads, "don't try to cover it up."

Erin's purse was open, sitting on the counter in front of her. She shouldn't have unlocked and flipped the sign over in the store window until she was ready. She thought she had more time but leave it to him to arrive at the exact time the bakery opened. It's his first time moving behind the counter that's typically reserved only for employees, only for her. She feels him behind her, his body so close -mere inches- behind hers and when she feels him gently grab her by the arm, guiding her to look at him, she abides.

And when she turns around and his eyes land upon her face, his jaw drops, he loudly gasps and he takes a step back. That busted lip was back and it was more swollen than ever. There was bruising around her neck more than likely imprinted from a hand. And her eye was dark and nearly swollen shut. He was speechless. That much was obvious with the way he kept opening and closing his mouth, trying to come up with something, anything to say.

"I can explain," she sounds so defeated and it tears his heart to shreds.

"You didn't fall," he asserts. He doesn't want her to try that excuse again.

"I didn't say I did."

"…then what happened?"

"I ran into-"

He interrupts before she can lie, "A fist?"

"What?" She has the nerve to look confused, as if that answer was far from the truth.

"Jay," she whispers, practically pleading with him to stay calm, she doesn't want this to escalate, she doesn't want this to become something it doesn't need to be, "it was an accident."

He scoffs, eyes rolling to the back of his head, "An accident? How do you accidentally beat someone up? Erin, I'm a detective, I've seen cases like this more times than I can count. I know it wasn't an accident just like I know it wasn't your fault. I know you think you love him, I know he probably apologized, promised you he'll change and bought you gifts to buy your forgiveness but it's not going to stop, he's not going to stop, it'll get worse and I'm scared that eventually he'll-"

"It's never gotten worse than this," she waves in the direction of her face, "I've never ended up in the hospital. He's made sure of it. It won't get worse." It sounds like she's actually trying to reassure him.

Jay reaches for her shoulders, drawing her into his arms and hugging her. He feels guilty for not helping sooner. He noticed the busted lip when they first met and he suspected she was shielding a black eye beneath her sunglasses but he had nothing else to go on. Then she went weeks without a incident, without bruises or cuts or bleeding and he thought maybe she actually did have a migraine, maybe she did actually fall. Sometimes people aren't in domestic violent relationships, sometimes they are accident prone and get bruises and busted lips the natural way. The only fault of those being on gravity rather than another person. He put the worry, the assumption and the thought of her possibly being physically abused to the back of his mind, choosing instead to focus on getting to know her, deepening their friendship. She became one of his closest friends, a woman that he has shared dark secrets with and this whole time he thought she did the same.

But, she didn't tell him about this.

"I don't want to see you hurt. I can't stand to see you hurt. I'm a detective. I can arrest him. I can do something. How can I help? I'll do anything."

"He's an attorney, Jay. He's a really good attorney. It'll be no point and he'll only make my life difficult. It's not worth it. I'm not worth it."

"Yes, you are," he extends his arms, pulling her out of the hug to stare down at her eyes, "you deserve better than him. You deserve to be happy. When he came in that day, I saw the smile you had on your face, it wasn't real, it barely showed how deep your dimples truly go," he plasters on a desperate smile, "I can help you leave. I can get you out of there."

"I wouldn't have this place without him. I wouldn't have anywhere to live without him."

"You can stay with me."

"Jay," she shrugs his hands off her shoulders, "I appreciate you trying to help me, but I don't need it. I can take care of myself. I always had in the past and I always will in the future."

* * *

Eli doesn't like how often Jay visits the bakery but there's nothing Erin can do about it. It's been the reason behind every argument, every hit, kick and shove. He thinks more is going on when that's the furthest thing from the truth. She wants him to stop, she keeps giving him chance after chance and she thinks if she tells him that Jay is a detective it would convince him.

It doesn't. It makes things worse. He wants her to forbid him from coming back to the store.

And she does.

"I won't take it personal. I know he put you up to this. And if I had proof that he was the one behind putting those bruises on your face then I'd be hauling his ass in right now." All he had was her statement to him and he knew that Erin wouldn't testify or give a written statement backing what she said to him. He wants to help her and every day that he doesn't, it breaks his heart. He's falling for her. No. He's fallen for her. Hard. Head over heels. And to be sidelined, hurts. To be pushed away and forbade from coming back, hurts even more. But, he knows it's been why the bruises have become a frequent display on her face, he notices the escalation in the abuse, how she came in with a limp and holding onto her side as she struggles to hold in just how physically hurt she is, "I don't want to cause you more pain," they both know what he means by that, "if you ever need me, for _anything _Erin, no matter the time or day or if I'm working or at home, call me, please," he kisses her forehead, "Thank you for the best months of my life," he grabs his leather jacket off the back of his usual seat and then leaves the store and her life for good.

* * *

It's hard to not think about her. What kind of man would he be to leave her knowing she was returning to someone that can so carelessly strike her with his fist? Jay calls his friend in the DA's office and he suspected the problem before it was told to him. If Erin won't report then they need a witness. No one has ever witnessed him striking her. And he's made sure to keep the injuries surface level, not once has she ever been sent to the hospital.

He's smart. In the months Jay has gotten to know her, he just assumed Eli hadn't been hitting her but he knows that's a lie. He's just been hitting her from the neck down, in places that her clothes can cover, "Damn it," how can he be so stupid? So dense? He wants to flip something over. Break something. His hands are restless and if he knew Eli's last name then he would probably run his name in the system. He would comb through every detail offered to him to find something. He had to get Erin out of there before the worse happened because it will…it always does.

* * *

And when he gets a call, his phone ringing on his first day off in weeks, he's tempted to throw it across the room, he's tempted to send it to voicemail but ever since Erin pushed him away, he's kept it close and at full volume. He doesn't recognize the number on the screen but that only makes him more anxious to answer it, "Hello," his throat is dry from sleep.

"Jay," he hears her cry into the phone and suddenly a wave of energy washes through him.

"Erin, where are you?" He jumps up, placing his phone on speaker, before running to his dresser to grab something to wear, "where are you, Erin?" He repeats himself.

"…at home," she whispers into the phone but he can still hear the sob stuck in her throat, "I kept your number, from that first day we met. I kept it."

"What's happening?"

"I'm scared," she admits vulnerably, "terrified and he's pissed."

"Where are you right now?"

"I'm hiding."

"Text me your address. I'm coming."

He doesn't hang up the phone. He simply forwards the text to the team, telling them it's Erin and they all suit up. He's been keeping them updated since he brought in that first batch of cupcakes. They might haven't met her personally but they've fallen in love with her cupcakes and when the cupcakes stopped coming, they had asked Jay for answers and he told them the truth. They waited for this day. Unfortunately, something had to happen for them to be able to do something.

"We're going to stay on the phone together. You don't have to talk. Stay quiet. Stay hidden. I'll get there as soon as I can. I promise, okay?"

She doesn't respond but he can hear her breathing. He assumes Eli must be close and he grabs his keys and is out the door in seconds.

* * *

It all happens so fast. In the blink of an eye it all comes to an end. They enter the apartment building, take the stairs to the third floor and then Atwater kicks in the door.

Eli is drunk, he's ranting, knife in hand as he shouts expletives as he tears the apartment apart in search of her. Eli isn't thinking straight because while the team takes him down, Jay searches for Erin and easily finds her hiding in the closet. It doesn't have a lock on the door and when he turns the knob to open it, he cracks it, "Erin it's me," he announces right before pulling it open.

He finds her. Knife clenched in her hand, ready to strike Eli if he found her first. Jay's proud of that, proud of her for being brave, strong and clear-minded enough to grab a weapon, hide and call him. He holsters his weapon and grabs her, pulling her into his arms and holding onto her for dear life, wrapping his arms so tightly around her as if she'd disappear if he didn't. He cradles her head in his hands, drawing back to look at her, "Erin," he whispers desperately, "Are you okay?"

It's a question that's easily answered when he takes in her face. There's a cut on her forehead that's bleeding and he's no doctor but he knows it'll definitely need stitches. The blood is running down her face, leading towards a bruise along her cheek and a busted lip. Her lip can never catch a break.

"I'm going to take you to the hospital."

"What-what about Eli?"

Jay runs his hands through her hair, "The team has him. He'll be booked and processed down at the station," he sees her eyes widen as if panicked, "he won't be able to hurt you there."

"…but he can once he gets out. He will hurt me the second he gets out."

"That'll be over my dead body."

* * *

Pictures are taken of her face to add to the case that's going to be built against Eli. It feels weird to be photographed, knowing those photos will be blown up in court during trial if he doesn't take a plea. She's going to give a statement against him and she hopes that in the coming days when her emotions level out that she doesn't change her mind.

"I want to give my statement before I back out again."

And she does. He records it and sends it off to the DA.

Jay has his brother look her over as a special favor to him. And she gets to meet the guy who starred in many stories Jay has told her over the months of shared cupcakes. It's nice to put a face to the stories and a personality to the background. Her forehead does need stitches. Will cleans up her face, patches and stitches her up before providing instructions for care. A nurse gives her an ice pack and Jay takes it to hold up to her face.

"I'm so tired."

"I bet," he pulls a seat up, switching the ice pack to his other hand as they wait for the discharge papers, "in your statement you never said what started the altercation."

Erin slightly turns to face him and just the sight of pain embedded in her eyes, breaks his heart, "You," her answer catches him off guard, "he thought I was still seeing you. He thought I was sneaking around with you."

"Er," it's his first time ever calling her that; it comes out in a passioned sigh, "I'm sorry."

"Just like you said none of this was my fault. It isn't yours either. I should have left a while ago. I've been with him since I was 18. He was all I knew for so long and I was too scared to leave, between being alone, his threats and losing everything, I felt stuck, but I'm tired, Jay, I'm so tired, my body is tired, my face is tired, my brain is tired, every part of me is tired."

Jay rises to his feet and leans forward, his forehead pressing against hers to peer as closely into her eyes as possible, "Good." He smiles, his nose unintentionally brushing against hers, "You're not alone in this, Erin. I care about you, more than you'll ever know and I'll be here for you no matter what," he whispers, feeling the pad of her thumb brush away one of his tears, "no matter what," he repeats, "and no matter what you did, no matter what you argued about, you did not deserve this. You didn't deserve any of it."

"It's just," her voice cracks and it's obvious she's on the verge of tears, "when I met him, he was so sweet but then when we became serious and moved in together, his temper and his jealousy and possessiveness became suffocating and then he would constantly text or call to check in with me, to see where I was and who I was with and then the hits started and they were small at first, a slap here, a shove there but then it escalated and it's like my body adapted. I became scared of him. I've never been scared of anyone. I did everything I could to please him because I thought if I did then he wouldn't hit me anymore. I thought it would stop," her voice cracked again and now it's his turn to wipe her tear away, "I should have left a long time ago and I know you think it's stupid that I didn't," he's shaking his head in obvious disagreement.

"I don't think you're stupid. I don't think leaving is as easy as it seems to someone on the outside, someone that's not currently in your predicament. You did what you did because you thought it was your best way of survival. For many people in similar situations to you, leaving is the most dangerous time because you're taking your control back and it threatens their power and the abuser sometimes retaliates in ways that are more violent than anything that occurred during the abuse."

She sniffs. The tears continue to fall. And she kisses him. Her tears mixing with his as their lips press together in an innocent kiss, a kiss that was fueled by comfort, high emotions and relief. He wouldn't ask for more, not now, not when her whole world has been tilted on its axis. She needs time, she needs freedom and most of all, from him, she needs patience.

* * *

How can he be so patient with her? It's like he has all the time in the world. Never rushing her. Never pressuring her. He's always there when she needs him and he's so supportive of her.

Jay knows that she's nowhere near ready to start anything. She needs time. She needs to continue to see her therapist. He's on her timeline and he's completely fine with that. There's no rush because he loves her and as a man that sees the world, the stars and all that is great every time he looks at her, he remains patient.

He doesn't pressure her to hurry up, to speed up her healing, to be with him, to go out with him and become something more than just friends. He doesn't want her to think that he's only helping her because he's interested in something more. If she just wants to remain friends with him, then he's fine with that, -he'll _be _fine with that. He just wants to be in her life.

* * *

And he is. Jay came in her life the moment she needed him the most, the moment she needed somebody to listen to her, to help her without judgment. He came in when she hit rock bottom, when she felt like all of her options were exhausted and she was going to continue to feel forced to stay in that relationship. He helped her get out. He stayed in her life and he grew to love her, he grew to love everything about her, and when he protected her from her angry ex, she grew to love him too. He didn't dare to leave when her ex was arrested. He stood by her side through it all. He was the shoulder she cried on, the man she vented to and the arms that held her in an embrace to offer comfort. He stayed through it all. And he has no plans on leaving, not unless she asks that of him.

Jay remains by her side. He stays in her life when she seeks to better herself. She starts attending therapy once a week with a psychiatrist that he's met a few times in an official capacity. He helps her find an apartment and move out of the one that held nothing but bad memories for her. He helps her find a lawyer that specializes in contracts, working to get that man's name off the deed so she's the sole owner of the bakery. It loosens another tie to him. She never has to go back, never has a reason to reach out to him, to visit him and she appreciates that more than he'll ever know, him stepping in to help her cut all ties she had to her ex. Erin continues to seek a better life and he'll continue to do it with her, to help her. He's there every step of the way.

He's her best friend. And she's his.

* * *

Erin doesn't care what the DA offers him. And she doesn't care when she finds out Eli accepted the plea deal. If anything she's relieved to hear it, it means she doesn't have to go to court, she won't have to relive the abuse and her pictures won't be displayed for everyone in the courtroom to see. She's okay with a plea deal. In her opinion, he could have gotten more time but at least he got something, she expected him to get nothing. Three years will have to be enough.

Jay is with her during the entire process. He's sitting beside her when the plea deal is explained to her. He's holding her hand when Eli accepts it in front of the judge. He's with her when Eli's lawyer approaches to inform her that his client would like a word with her. Jay's team, she likes each member of the unit, even the boss she's heard so many things about and doesn't think he's as bad as Jay makes him seem, they step in, sending his lawyer off.

Erin has no desire to visit him. She kind of expected it to be honest. She thought either he was going to request it or she was going to go for closure for herself. But therapy helped her. She realized no one, not Eli, not Jay, not anyone can give her closure for herself but herself. It might have taken almost a year of therapy for her to realize that but healing takes time. And she isn't afraid of him anymore, she's not scared of Eli and she doesn't need him or need to see him anymore.

* * *

"We caught the men responsible for the string of robberies," Jay casually mentions as if he was talking about the weather, "caught them dead in the act at a jewelry store a block over."

"How do you know it's the same people?"

"Prints," he answers simply, "they match. It's them."

They make it to the restaurant he told her about a year ago. And the food was pretty good which had Erin looking forward to the cupcakes. Despite Jay's warning to not get her hopes up, she did and when the cupcake was placed in front of her, she rubbed her hands together out of delight in anticipation of digging in. He didn't order dessert, choosing not to waste his money a second time.

Erin lifts it up and takes one big bite.

"Oh," She struggled to control the look on her face after taking a bite of the cupcake, "this is horrible," she grabs a napkin and subtly disposes of the chewed bite, "That's a recipe for disaster."

Erin frowns at the cupcake. How could something that's supposed to be delicious be so nasty? It's like the baker didn't even try. Her brows furrow. Her lips pout. She's staring at the cupcake with such focus that he wonders if she's trying to guess the ingredients inside of it. And he watches her, taking in every single detail, the perfect lips that healed so well that you'd never notice they've been busted more times in the last six years than anyone can count. The bruises have faded and the light scar on her forehead is barely noticeable. She calls it her battle scar. It's a reminder of all she's overcome, of all she's gone through. He's proud of her. And if it's possible, he's even more in love with her, "I'm in love with you," he admits in one breath, "I've been in love with you since I met you."

Her gaze is drawn up from the cupcake to his eyes, "You're in love with me," she whispers in disbelief, as if it was hard to believe that he could be absolutely, head over heels in love with her, "I-" the corner of her lips tilting upwards when he nods, "I'm in love with you too."

"You don't know how much it means for me to hear you say that."

She reaches for his hand under the table, "…probably about the same amount it meant for me to hear you." He brings her hand up to his lips and he presses kisses against her palm.

"I love you," he says it again.

It's music to her ears, "And I love you too."

Those words, she has never uttered them with her whole heart. She loves him. And she knows the love she felt for him is real, it's a feeling like no other. She's never felt this way towards anyone in her life. This is a new ride, this is foreign territory, and she's happy he's been patient enough to go along the ride with her.

* * *

Jay holds her hand for the first time in public. And it's…nice. They've been taking things slow. A kiss to the lips and falling asleep in the same bed together but that's it. That's as far as it has gone. And she appreciates his patience with her. She feels him bring her hand up to his lips, holding his lips there as they continue their walk along the docks. It's nice out. It's the perfect time of year for a relaxing walk, "I'm glad I met you."

He moves her hand from his lips to respond, "I'm glad I met you too."

"I always thought I had the worse luck in the world but maybe I didn't," she shrugs, "I got you out of all of this. That's some pretty damn good luck."

"You'll always have me. At least for as long as you want me."

"What about forever?"

He turns her to face him. His hands settling on her hips, finding comfort there. And when she wraps her arms around his neck, rising to the tips of her toes to kiss him, to make out with him, a kiss more heated than all of their previous ones combined, he finds himself falling more in love with her, "Forever is perfect."

* * *

Erin tied the apron around Jay's waist, smiling at the floral design protecting his clothes from the mess they're about to create soon. She steps back, withdrawing her cell from her pocket, "I have to take a picture of this," and before he can protest, she's capturing a forever memory of him wearing a floral design apron, "and don't you worry, I'll save it for my personal collection."

Jay isn't bothered. He's too eager to learn how to make cupcakes. It looks easy, or at least he finds out soon enough that she makes it look easy.

By the time the snickerdoodle cupcakes are in the oven, his face is covered with baking powder and flour while hers remained unmarred. There's a wasted cracked egg on the floor that fell from his slippery hands when he didn't have a good grasp on the shell. There's also fragments of egg shells on the counter from when he cracked it into the bowl and had to scrape them out. No one wants a shell in their cupcake, she told him, and he didn't have to be a baker to agree with that.

"I think I'll probably leave the baking to you," he admits when she slides the pan into the oven.

"…I told you it's not as easy as it looks. It requires patience which is confusing because you're the most patient man I've ever met."

"I'm patient when it comes to the things and people I care about and value."

And Erin picked up on the meaning behind his words just by taking in the expression on his face, it's so full of hope, so full of love and understanding. She moves to set the timer before reaching for his hand pulling him out of her kitchen, leaving the mess behind to be cleaned the next time she enters the kitchen. It's just a few egg shells and sprinkled flour, sugar and baking powder covering inches of her countertop

The progress she's made in working on herself, in working on her bakery business, in working on everything that matters to her has just been a sight to witness. Jay is grateful to have a front row seat to that, to be here as a person that she can turn to when needed. He intertwines his fingers with hers and draws her into his arm, kissing her forehead, just above the lightened scar, "If my cupcakes don't turn out like yours, will you make a batch for me?"

"Sorry, no can do," she chuckles when her response makes him pout, "I ran out of eggs. You dropped like two of them."

"If I run to the store to pick you up some more…?"

"…then I will make you as many snickerdoodle cupcakes as you desire."

He kisses her lips and he doesn't stop until the timer goes off.

"Let's see the damage."

"I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit."

Jay pulls out the cupcakes to allow them to cool while Erin cleans up the mess in her kitchen, he stares down at them, already knowing without tasting them that they aren't going to be the perfection that Erin creates on the daily basis. When he applies the frosting that she instructed him on how to make, he takes a cupcake in hand and takes a cautionary bite.

"So, how'd you do?"

"They're better than the cupcakes at that restaurant," he admits before taking another bite, "but they're nowhere near as good as the ones you do on your own."

She blushes. She shrugs. And she tries not to allow his compliment to go to her head. It doesn't work. It goes straight to her head. She grabs a cupcake to try for herself and surprisingly it isn't as bad as she thought it would be, "They're pretty good."

"You're just being nice."

"No, I'm being serious. I mean…they're not better than mine but they're better than a lot of cupcakes I've tasted in recent years."

He'll take that compliment. He'll remind her of that compliment. He'll never let her forget that she gave him that compliment.

* * *

"You bought me flowers?"

He has a key to her place, the apartment she's been living in since she moved out of the one she shared with Eli. She walked in to not only find him standing in her hallway but there's a bouquet of roses in his hands and he's holding them out for her.

"I haven't received flowers in years. I can't remember the last time I got any."

She takes them from his grasp and brings them up to her nose, inhaling the scent of the bright red buds. He doesn't say a word; he just silently takes her in. He watches her retrieve a vase, set it under the faucet to add water to it before situating the flowers inside of it, "I have the perfect place for it," he would bring her flowers everyday if it meant she would wear that smile forever, "Thank you," and he's finally breaking out of his reverie and moving closer.

"You're welcome," he comes to stand behind her, his hands going to her shoulders as she sits the vase down in the center of her coffee table, "and I'm glad you like them. You deserve the best of everything," Erin turns around to face him, to look up at his eyes, "and I'm glad you're getting it."

Erin made the first move in closing the distance between them. She slid one hand up to cup his cheek as she rose to the tip of her toes to cover his lips with hers. He met her passion with his own form of it, dropping his hands to wrap around her hips, tugging her closer, pressing himself against her just so she knows how much control she has over him, how much she turns him on and makes him feel alive. Erin parted her lips, granting him access and permission to escalate the building sexual chemistry in the room, "I want this," her words are mumbled against his lips.

"Are you sure about this? It's going to change everything."

"Everything has already changed."

"…but are you sure about this? Are you sure you're ready to take the next step in our relationship?"

And the moment she nods, the atmosphere shifts. His body language changes. He's tearing at her clothes while she tears at his. Erin's hands roam freely against his sculptured chest as he backs her in the direction of her bedroom, losing clothes along the way. She explored his body, mapping out the ridges, the scars and the muscles that defined the man in front of her. His own hands begin to travel along hers, pressing against her flesh, kneading against her warm skin until she's lying on her back and he's hovering above her, taking in the beauty that is Erin Lindsay.

It's slow. It's passionate. Neither of them have anywhere to be but with each other. Neither of them is in a rush. He takes his time bringing her to release and when their bodies are joined together, when he slid into her, into his own piece of heaven, he realized that this is where he belongs, with her, always with her, to love and protect for all of his days to come. He moves. She drags her nails down his bare back. He kisses her. And when they both reach their peak, hers coming a few seconds before his, they come as one, joined as one with declarations of love whispered from their lips.

* * *

Jay watches her struggle to stay awake. He watches as her eyes flutter open and close as she fights the sleep looming over her. His hand runs through her hair as her head rests comfortably on his lap, his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of him. She's relaxed. She's content. And he's lucky, "I don't think I'll ever finish falling in love with you."

Her eyes may be closed and her breaths may be even but she was still awake and she heard every word he just whispered. He didn't mind. They were meant for her ears and her ears only. She rolls onto her side, head still resting in his lap but her body now faced the back cushions of the couch rather than the ceiling and he notices that her eyes were now wide open, "You," she yawns, finger trailing up and down the front of his shirt, "are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He doesn't stop running his fingers through her hair. It's comforting. It's relieving any and all types of stress in her head, "Go to sleep Erin," he whispered, "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Good," she yawns. And this time she doesn't fight against the wave of slumber that takes her under.

* * *

"I can leave if I'm being that much of a problem!"

It's their first argument. And her leaving is the last thing he wanted. He sobers up, not from alcohol but from being consumed with anger at knowing Eli wrote to her and she didn't tell him.

"I didn't mean to yell at you. I didn't mean to raise my voice."

Her shoulders deflated. The frown on her face has him feeling guilty for putting it there, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you but it's because it honestly wasn't much to tell. I didn't read it. I got the letter, I ripped it up and I threw it into the trash because I'm not interested in anything he has to say!"

"I could have helped you."

"Help me do what, Jay?" She's on guard. Her arms are crossed over her chest, "Helped me tear it up? I didn't need help with that."

"I know but…I can't imagine how you felt when you received it. I could have been here for you."

She finds herself calming down when she witnesses the look of guilt cross his face. She moves closer, apologetic for taking her frustration out on him when he truly didn't deserve it, "I shouldn't have snapped at you," she acknowledges her part in their argument, "I think the letter just caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting it and I took out my frustration on you. You didn't deserve it and you raising your voice was just in response to my shitty mood."

"Don't," he reaches for her, shaking his head in disagreement, "don't make excuses and blame yourself for me yelling." Sometimes she thinks she's left her relationship with Eli behind her but it's little moments like this that she realizes it's something she'll always carry with her, it's an experience that has shaped her present whether she likes it or not.

Erin leans in to kiss him, to bite his lip and invite him in. And despite this not being the best place to escalate things between them, it doesn't stop Jay from grabbing the end of Erin's long braid, pulling it back gently to tip her head, offering up better access to the column of her neck. She gasped as his mouth trailed across her heated skin. His hands pulled at the buttons of her chef's coat, "You need to lose this," he starts to unravel it, "Now."

"We have to be quick. A customer can walk in at any minute."

She doesn't remove all of his clothes; she simply pulls at what needs to be pulled and tugs away what needs to be dropped in order to grant herself just enough access to him. He removes very little of her clothing just for the simple fact that anyone can walk in, the front door to the bakery is unlocked and since Erin is the chef behind the operation, she'll be needed while he can remain hidden to fix his clothing. She just needed access to one part of him. That's it. Just one part.

It's no time for sweet talking. It's no time for foreplay. It's not much time for anything but Jay holding Erin up in his arms, pressing her back against the wall and slipping inside of her. She doesn't have much time to adjust before he's already moving and because the walls are thin and the last thing she needs is for the restaurants located on either side of the bakery to hear them, she bites down on his hand that's pressed against her mouth. She's panting. He's moaning. And when a load moan suddenly slips out, she covers his mouth with her hand.

The last thing she wants is for Eddie and Gloria to know, to find out that innocent, little Erin isn't so innocent.

Erin threw her head back just as her release overwhelmed her body. She shuttered. She shivered. She felt him bite down onto her shoulder to suppress his need to moan just as he hit his peak, eyes rolling to the back of his head and his body growing weak, limbs nearly turning into noodles and collapsing and she giggles when he has to regroup and readjust his stance and her body in his arms.

"Move in with me," he pants. He's out of breath. And while she expected him to say something, that wasn't it. She rubs her hand against his cheek, coaxing him to look up at her.

"Do you mean that?" She didn't realize just how out of breath she is too, especially considering he was the one doing all the work.

"Yeah. I want you to move in with me," he kisses her sweaty shoulder, "I'm tired of not waking up next to you every day," he kisses her collarbone, "I'm tired of splitting time between two places. I'm tired of your things not being with mine. Move in with me." He places one final kiss on her other shoulder before his head falls into the crook of her neck, settling there as he waits.

"Yes, I'll move in with you."

And she can feel the smile press into her skin. He laughs in relief, absolutely giddy and filled with joy that the woman in his arms, the number one woman in his life is taking the next step with him in their relationship, "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you more than anything."

"You always know the right thing to say. I love you."

* * *

Every day that passes is another step, another day further from the past and closer towards the future. She's made so much progress, whether she realizes it or not. She's come so far and her life can only go up from here. At least she hopes… She finds herself brushing her teeth and reflecting over the whirlwind course of her life, over everything that's happened over the last year and a half.

"I'm glad I took a chance with you," she admits after rinsing her mouth.

He reaches for his own toothbrush, "What do you mean?" Her words came out of nowhere.

"I was terrified if I'm being honest," she pushes herself up onto the countertop, legs dangling and swinging in the air, "to love you, date you, move in with you, to actually commit to you. I was absolutely terrified but I didn't want to lose you. I didn't want to lose a good thing."

He brushes his teeth as he contemplates her words and by the time he's done, by the time he's rinsed his mouth and washed off his toothbrush, he's ready to reply, "Babe," his hand brushes up her bare leg, "why were you afraid? You know you'd never lose me. I'm not going anywhere. And you know I'd never hurt you. Ever."

"I know that," she smiles down at his hands, turning over on her legs, opening his palm up and wiggling his fingers, hinting for her to intertwine her fingers with his, "at least I keep telling myself that but every relationship I've gotten into wasn't good for me," she swallows roughly; her throat is dry, "It would start out nice but it always ended badly. I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop with us and when it didn't…"

"What?" He gently squeezes her hands.

And she shrugs.

"What Erin?" He nudges her leg.

"I just felt like it was too good to be true and that I didn't deserve you but Dr. Charles helped a lot and you helped even more. You became my friend," she looks up to meet his eyes, "you wanted me in your life whether as just friends or something more. You didn't just want me for my body. You just wanted me for me. And you waited for me."

"…because you're it. You're the one for me. And if I have to tell you that every day, I will."

The dimples in her cheeks make their appearance when she blushes and smiles, "You're the one for me too."

"So what are we waiting for," his smile expands when he notes the look of confusion on her face, "Marry me."

He gets his answer when she throws her body forward and his natural instincts are to catch her, wrapping his arms around her just as she wraps her legs around him. She giggles, and buries her face in the crook of his neck and if it wasn't for the close proximity her face is to his ear, he wouldn't have heard her whispered yes.

* * *

Erin has never been loved before Jay came into her life. She's never been in love before she met him. What she thought was love, what she thought was someone being in love with her wasn't real.

She's never had a healthy relationship with anyone, including both familial and romantic, and for the first time ever Jay has brought that into her life. He's brought love, protection, comfort and shelter. She can be herself. She can say what she pleases. She can do what she wants. She can be true to her being without fear of retaliation. For over six years, she's been trapped in a relationship she thought was going to be her forever. She stayed out of fear. She stayed because the abuse became her normal, it was her normal since she was a little girl and had seen quite a few men strike her mother. It's all she's really known. She stayed out of embarrassment because for over a year after the abuse first started, she wouldn't admit it to herself. If she didn't admit it then it wasn't real, it wasn't happening. She thought she loved him; he was her first serious relationship. She invested so many years into that relationship, she didn't want to just give it up. She thought she could fix him. She thought he could change; she believed him when he said that he would change for her. It was all lies. And now it's all over.

She rolls over, spreading her arm out, finding his side of the bed empty. She glances at the clock, she'd only dozed off for a nap for about an hour. She sits up, glances around the room before pushing herself up to her feet in search of her husband, "Jay," she calls out, walking out of their bedroom, she goes downstairs, searching every room along the way before finding him in the kitchen, "babe, I was calling you."

"Sorry, I didn't hear you," he pulls a pan out of the oven and sets it down on top of the stove, "I made dinner. I would have made dessert but I'd prefer not to step on any toes. You're the baker in the family," she smiles and inhales the scent of lasagna, "Smells good, doesn't it?"

"Yes," she moves closer to look at it. And it looks divine.

"We'll have a side salad with it," he moves to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her, settling them beneath the sweatshirt she's wearing, -his sweatshirt, "I love it when you wear my clothes," he kisses her neck.

Erin turns around to rise to the tips of her bare feet and press her mouth to his. She's gripping his chin, giving him as good as he's giving her, and when his arms wrap around her, she pulls her lips away to catch her breath, "I would love to continue this, but I'm starving."

"Don't want you to starve now," he pecks her lips and then lowers himself to a crouching position, raising her sweatshirt up enough to expose the slight swell of her stomach, "don't want you to starve either," his head gently falls forward, forehead pressed to the center of her belly and he closes his eyes, thanking every being above for this, for her, for the life growing inside of her and when she feels his lips press against the area above her belly button, her hands start to run through his hair, "I'm okay," he answers her silent question, "I'm just a man that'll never take any of this for granted. I love you so much."

"I love you too," she runs her hands through his hair then brings it around to cup his face, tilting his head back so he would look up to face her, "Come on babe, let's eat. The last thing you want to suffer is the wrath of your hungry, hormonal pregnant wife."

He gives her belly one last kiss before getting up, "You're right babe," he chuckles before pressing a kiss against her cheek, right on the dimple, "now let's make our plates and dig in."


End file.
